


The Gift

by Schiriki



Series: What If ... He Was A Prince [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 19:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schiriki/pseuds/Schiriki
Summary: THIS STORY IS A SEQUEL TO MY WORKS "THAT'S NOT ME" AND "DIFFERENT"You don't have to know the prequels to understand/follow this story, there are only a few references in here. However, if you haven't yet read them and you're thinking about reading them, you should probably stop reading this story right here - it kind of spoils the endings.STORY SUMMARYGendry had made a mistake, a rather small one, actually. He hadn’t thought it a big deal or that the consequences could get so severe. But they had. And all Arya and he do ever since, is ranting and yelling at each other. And he can’t stand it any longer. For several reasons. He’s running out of patience with Arya and himself. He needs her to stop. But doesn’t know how to achieve that, yet. Until one evening out of the blue, she stops yelling at him – for a while – and instead has a small gift for him. Which takes him entirely by surprise … since she hadn’t given him anything before.WARNING!The writer of this story gives no warrant, its readers will approve or like this story, or the depiction of events happening or characters appearing/mentioned in it. Therefore, the time spent on reading this story is not refundable. ;)





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> GENERAL NOTES
> 
> 1\. This work is based (very very loosely) on “A Song of Ice and Fire” by George R. R. Martin and the HBO series “Game of Thrones” and I don't own the storylines or characters.
> 
> 2\. English is not my first language. And this story here is only my third attempt on creative/fictional writing - I never had training in creative writing, not even for a few hours in school - so please don't expect much.
> 
> 3\. This story is told from Gendry's POV. That means you see the story through his eyes, but you shouldn't take all he is seeing/hearing/thinking for facts. For example: He never got along well with his parents, so his view on them is biased.
> 
> 4\. After certain trolling comments, I feel the need to say:  
> I did not write this story to please or entertain anyone particular. I wrote it mainly for myself. Because, well, I felt like writing it. Hence, I cannot guarantee any of you readers, that you will like this story or approve it, or the depiction of events happening or characters appearing/mentioned in it. Meaning, your time spent on reading this story, is sadly not refundable.  
> Therefore, I advise you rather NOT to read this story, if you are unsure if you can handle wasting time on a story that doesn't go the way you want. Actually, in that case, I strongly advise try writing your own story, since only then you have a chance to get exactly what you want. After all, that is my reason why I started writing this fan-fiction here ;)
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
>  
> 
> THIS STORY’S CONNECTION TO “THAT’S NOT ME”
> 
> About four months ago, Gendry had decided to stay at Winterfell as a blacksmith, giving up his rights to the throne, so he could be with Arya. He had even gone so far to refuse to live in the chambers in the Guest House (he had resided in during his visit in “That’s Not Me”) and instead had chosen to spend the nights on a cot in the back of the forge, to show everyone he was serious about his decision. But in return, he had imposed a condition: If Arya ever wanted more than hugs and kisses during daytime in public, she would need to marry him, since he wouldn’t want to disgrace her and her family by dishonouring her. And Eddard, Catelyn and a still over-protective Robb had agreed with him on that; especially the latter was hoping Arya’s unwillingness to marry a high lord would still apply to former crown princes. And at first, Arya had actually been okay with that condition and had accepted it, probably thinking, she could go a few years with just kissing, holding hands and wrestling and play-fighting with Gendry.
> 
> But then a month later, when Jon, who had come visiting for Arya's 17th nameday, had left Winterfell again, Arya had managed to convince him and Robb to let Gendry visit Castle Black with her and their younger brothers. And on the way to the Wall (which took about two weeks) Arya had one night suddenly decided, she wanted to sleep next to Gendry and not in between Jon and Bran. Of course, Robb had feared just that, which had been why he had asked Theon to go with them. To make sure Bran and Rickon wouldn’t let their guard down with Gendry on the way back. But naturally, that hadn’t stopped Arya from picking up her furs in the middle of the night and placing them right next to Gendry - although, at first he had protested out of respect for her family's wishes. But of course, Arya’s persistence had made him give in soon, ignoring Jon's, Theon’s and Bran's protests. After all, they had still slept right next to them and had kept their clothes on. So eventually Gendry had allowed Arya to even snuggle against him. And they had quickly grown used to that.
> 
> So much, they both had hated it to spend the nights during their month at Castle Black separated again, since she had a chamber of her own, but he had to share his with Theon. So, somehow even Arya had looked forward to the journey back to Winterfell, to finally have him next to her again. But that had only made them miss each other more during the nights at Winterfell afterwards, and that’s where this story starts.

Three days after their return from the Wall his troubles had begun. With Arya suggesting for the first time, he should stop sleeping on the cot in the back of the forge and instead spend the nights in her chamber. Not that he wouldn’t want to. He did. _More than anything in the world._ But he had vowed to her parents and her brothers to not dishonour her. _And he wasn’t his father. He cared. He’d never dishonour a lady, least of all the one he loved._ Even Aly and his three flings afterwards had been no maidens anymore when they had crawled into his bed. But most of all, _They had a deal! She and him. His crown for her hand in marriage. And he wouldn’t set a foot over her chamber’s threshold, before she hadn’t kept her side of the bargain. She knew that damn well._

Yet, she had kept asking, since over two fortnights now. Every day, when she had come to the forge before nightfall to bid him goodnight. And each time he had refused and repeated himself by telling her, _she knew why_ – pissing her off, each time a bit more. But she had kept pestering him about it – pissing him off, each time a bit more. And the whole thing had quickly turned into a downward spiral, almost as bad as in King’s Landing. _Well, somehow it was worse. Since this time they both wanted the same thing._ But he couldn’t give in and she wouldn’t give up.

 _Gods, what had he done?_ He should have never let her sleep next to him on their trip to Castle Black, let alone hold her in his arms. He had trapped them both in a never-ending circle of shouting and insulting each other. _For who knows how long? Years, probably._ Since she clearly wasn’t ready to marry him, yet. _He’d be on his last legs before soon …_

Nonetheless, she had found a way to escalate things even worse. _Why was he even surprised?_ One day, well, night rather, when he finally had fallen asleep after yet another round of ranting and yelling at one another, he had woken to something tickling the skin over his collarbone. _Loose strands of her hair!_  
_“What the fuck?”_ he had shouted, startling her in her sleep.  
“What?” she had snapped bleary.  
“Get out!” he had spat and had pushed her ungently from his cot.  
“ _Ouch,_ you bloody idiot!” she had protested.  
“Bloody idiot yourself!” he had hissed and had pulled her to her feet, dragging her furiously out through the smithy and into the courtyard. “Good night, m’lady!” he had snarled and had slammed the side door into her face – as he had done only a couple of hours earlier.  
“Fuck you, you stupid bull!” she had shouted through the wooden boards.  
And he had growled infuriated, “Back at you!” already on his way back to his cot.

She had definitively gone too far that night. _She crossed a line. He wasn’t her play thing. And it was about time she understood that!_ He had been so mad at her then, he had barely spoken a word with her the following days – let alone kissed or touched her. Instead, he had spent his days working angrily at the forge, even in his spare time. To work on a new helmet for himself. Stupid bull, she called him, _Fine, a bull she’ll have._

Only, that had infuriated her even more.  
After five days of near silence and physical rejection, she had barged into the smithy after supper, “What’s your fucking problem, you stupid bull? Why can’t you spend the nights in my chamber?”  
“You know bloody well  _why._ ” he had snarled, scowling at her, “ _We had an agreement, you and I._ And that’s not debatable, I gave up the throne for you, and in return you promised to marry me. And until then, it’s just hugs and kisses.”  
“Well, _guess_ what I want to do in my chamber, you bloody fool?” she had retorted angrily, “Where’s the difference in doing that during the days and doing it at night? And it’s not like we hadn’t done it before—”  
“That was on the kingsroad! With your brothers right next to us.” he had shot back furiously, “So, _you know damn well_ where the difference is, and now leave me be!”  
He had shoved her backwards out of the forge and had slammed the side door into her face once more.  
“You fucking arsehole, I hate you!” she had yelled from outside.  
“Yeah, goodnight to you, too.” he had scoffed in return, locking the door and stemming a bar against it – so she couldn’t pick the lock again.

After that, he hadn’t even seen a glimpse of her, for days. She had no longer broken her fast in the Great Hall, nor had she joined him and her brothers for supper. Instead, she had left the castle with Nymeria and Lady before sunrise and hadn’t returned until nightfall. _Great. Now he was the culprit, or what?_ And it had worked. He actually had been sorry for kicking her out of the forge that night, and for being mad at her. _Even though, it was a clear-cut issue. She broke their deal. Not him._ Yet, she had been absolutely mad at him now and he couldn’t stand it. _Gods, what had he gotten himself into with that woman?_

So, while she had been sulking somewhere outside the castle – _in the wolfswood most likely_ – he had spent his days brooding in the smithy, hammering to clear his mind. He really needed a to find a way to make her stop. _Before they kill each other._ And that damn girl clearly had no idea how hard this was for him, to reject her again and again. To deny himself what he really wanted. _Badly wanted. Even more than she did. Obviously._ And she bringing it up every night, reminding him of that, made things worse and worse for him.

He had gotten used to his mind revolving around her for most of the time. But her continually bringing sharing her chamber up, changed the way his mind revolved around her. Of course, he had thought about bedding her before. Ever since they had met, he had dreamt and wondered about that. But now it was, as if his mind revolved around nothing else anymore. He could barely look at her anymore, without thinking about _fu— bedding her._ He could barely hold her in his arms, without having his mind scream at him, _Get her out of those clothes, see what’s underneath!_ And even more so, to finally touch what’s underneath. _Her arse and tits and cun— Seven hells!_ So, she constantly telling him, she wanted him in her bed – _at night, all alone in her chamber_ – wasn’t helping. _At all._ It turned his life into a nightmare. He felt more and more like his father. _Like a sick lusting pervert._ And worst of all, while she seemed entirely oblivious of that, her brothers were not.

Bran had caught him absently staring at her arse multiple times now, and had punched his shoulders, teasing, “Watch it, princeling, that’s my sister’s bum your staring at!”  
But while the younger brother somehow still could laugh it away, Robb could not. _Never could._ And he of all people could relate to that.

Gendry remembered his own rage, when he first had caught Trystane stealing glances at his sister. Innocent, admiring glances. And when he had caught Myrcella stealing curious glances back, his heart had nearly stopped. So, he really could imagine, how Robb was feeling about him. Especially since his glances were long past innocent now. Just thinking about Trystane staring at Myrcella the way he was now gazing at Arya, made him want to murder his friend. _So, yeah, he absolutely understood._

And it pissed him off. Robb and he had finally started to get along. Her ever protective big brother had finally started to accept his relationship with Arya. _And now his sick twisted mind was about to ruin it again!_ Also, Arya wasn’t the only Stark with a temper. _That much was clear by now._ Both, she and Rickon had unmistakably more than a few drops of wolf’s blood running through their veins – and so had their big brother. After catching him staring at Arya’s chest for the first time, Robb had shot him a warning glance. But seeing him gazing at her arse, as she fumingly stormed over the yard, away from the forge and away from him, Robb had walked over and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.  
“I really had my doubts about you, Gendry. But I appreciate your efforts. I think, I’m beginning to trust you with my baby sister.” he had stated.  
And Gendry had understood, _don’t ruin that. Stay out of my sister’s pants!_ And he wanted to obey, but it was getting harder and harder. _So, he really needed her to stop pestering him about her stupid chamber … and soon._

But Arya had other plans. _Naturally._ After a sennight she finally showed up again. Right after he had finished work for the day, on his way to the Great Hall for supper. When she of a sudden stepped into his way and headed him off. She wordlessly grabbed his arm and dragged him along. And he wanted to follow her. _To whatever she had in mind. Anything, as long as he could spend time with her again._ But his instincts warned him, _don’t!_  
And thus, he stopped and braced his feet against her, refusing to following her any further, “Arya, it’s late. I’m tired and starving and not in the mood to discuss sharing your chamber again.” he growled, getting annoyed again.  
“And I’m tired of your bloody honour, you stupid bull.” she snapped and pushed his arm forcefully away, “I had a gift for you, you know, but if you don’t want it, _fine._ I can very well keep it for myself, then.”  
She was about to run off, but now he grasped her arm, “A gift? _For me?_ ” he asked incredulous, already grinning like a fool. _She hadn’t given him anything before._  
“Not anymore. It’s mine now.” she hissed angrily and punched his chest.  
Wrenching free from his grip, she ran off into the godswood. _Damn, why was everything so complicated with her?_  

Sighing and rolling his eyes, he followed her into the sacred grove, suspecting to find her sulking under the heart tree. But she wasn’t there. _Great. Hide and seek it is, then._ Tired and running low on patience, he went to the other spots he knew she liked in the godswood – like where the wolves had dug their den. Yet, no sign of Arya. Or the wolves, but they probably were out hunting. And then it dawned on him. _Oh, hells. Please, no._ Reluctantly, he went to the hot pools, praying to both her gods and his, to not find her there bathing … naked. _No, he shouldn’t think of that._ And thus, seeing she wasn’t there either, made him bend over. Supporting himself with his hands on his knees, he let out a loud sigh of relief. _But where the hells was she then?_

He started calling her name, asking her to come out. Yet, nothing. No answer, no Arya. It was past nightfall now, and if it weren’t for the nearly full moon in the sky, he would have stumbled through pitch darkness. _Had she maybe left through one of the side gates? No. This felt too much like one of her stupid games._ But he wasn’t in the mood for that. _He had enough._  
“ _Fine,_ don't come out!” he shouted, “I’m going to bed now. Goodnight, Arya.”  
But when he walked back towards main gate, of a sudden Nymeria and Lady stepped forth from behind the massive old heart tree … and behind them _Arya!_ in a silver gown. Causing his jaw to drop, _she looked absolutely gorgeous._ In that dress. Covered in moonlight. Framed by the red and white of the weirwood _Like from a song. No gown of golden leaves, but close. A forest lass, as beautiful as one could be. Like a dream … Yeah, that was it, a dream. Obviously._

Yet, her expectant look indicated, it was not.  
_“What the—”_ he burst out thunderstruck, “You’re wearing a dress.”  
“No shit?” she mocked, folding her arms in front of her chest, about to get mad at him. “ _But_ I thought, you wouldn’t wear those anymore?” he stammered, still gazing at her in awe.  
“Just a one-time exception, to prove the rule.” she retorted, evidently getting angry at him.  
_“Why?”_ he gasped, still absolutely stunned.  
“Thought, you’d like it …” she growled and bit her lower lip, clearly feeling insecure.  
“Yeah, definitively.” he gulped, “I do. Like it. _Love it!_ ”  
“ _Then why_ are you still standing there, half a league away?” she huffed.  
Causing him to grin like a fool again and stride towards her, cupping her face to kiss her.

But she stopped him, placing her hands on his chest, to keep him at a distance, “Not so fast.” she warned.  
“I thought you wanted me to—” he blinked confused.  
“Shut it!” she hissed and took a deep breath.  
She clearly was nervous, going by her flattering lashes and her staring at his chest.  
“Okay, so … I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell and you’re Gendry Baratheon of King’s Landing, yeah?” she asked quietly.  
“Yeah?” he confirmed, yet cocked his brow. Not getting what she wanted to tell him, “Arya, what—”  
“I said, _shut it!_ Didn’t I?” she scowled up at him.  
Until he silently nodded, furrowing his brow in utter confusion, though.  
And she went back to staring at his chest again, holding her breath for a flash until she blurted, “I take this man.” hitting him completely off guard.  
“ _WHAT?_ ” he stammered fully at a loss, before it dawned on him, _“Arya—”_ he stared at her in disbelief.  
But she went on and quickly added, “I am his and he is mine, from this day on until my last.”  
And only then, she looked up at him again, expectantly. Her face flushed bright red.

 _Was this really happening?_ He was absolutely speechless and could only stare at her, watching, how her insecure expression slowly made way for her typical angry look, ready to yell at him.  
“Would you stupid bull just say it, too?” she snapped and shoved him angrily.  
Ripping him from his state of astonishment, and causing a smile to grow wider and wider on his face.  
“Stop grinning like a fool, and say it!” she demanded, about to shove him again.  
But this time he caught her wrists, “I take this woman. I am hers and she is mine, from this day on until my last.”  
“ _There we go._ So, will you now finally stop sleeping in that stupid forge?” she huffed.  
Making him chuckle and cup her face again to finally kiss her. _His, for real. Finally._

And once they broke away again, he asked grinningly, “Shouldn’t we’ve said some prayers somewhere in between all this?”  
“Right. Forgot that part, sorry.” she laughed and shrugged, “But I guess it still counts if we do that now, right?”  
Hence, they both knelt down for a silent prayer. Yet, _thank you,_ was all he had to say to the gods, before he opened his eyes again, to side-glance at his wife. _Gods, she really was a sight to behold._

“Um, one more thing,” she suddenly growled, even before she opened her eyes to face him again, “I’m keeping my name, _are we clear?_ ”  
Her slightly threatening undertone made him chuckle, “Didn’t think you forgot the cloaks for no reason.” he nudged her shoulder with his own.  
“Course not, I don’t need your protection.” she snorted and meant it.  
“No, that you don’t.” he chuckled and meant it, too. “So, what’s next?” he asked excited.  
“Um, normally the feast …” she murmured somewhat sheepishly and got up quickly now.  
And he couldn’t help but tease, “ _What?_ No feast?” He feigned to be outraged once he got up himself, “Fine wife you are! Starving me to death already on our wedding day, I think I’m having second thoughts already.”

“ _Fine._ Stay here, then.” she snorted unimpressed and walked off, teasing, _“Your loss.”_  
“Not so fast, wifey!” he ran after her and stopped her, “You forgot something.”  
“What?” she frowned, before she realised what he had called her, “And don’t call me _that!_ ”  
But he just scooped her up into his arms, “This,” grinning at her and teasing again, “ _wifey._ ”  
Causing her to punch his shoulder, “You want this marriage to be a short one, huh?” she challenged.  
“Well, depends … am I getting any food today or not?” he kept teasing.  
Making her roll her eyes and punch him once more, “Shut up, and start walking, stupid.”  
“As m’lady commands.” he laughed.  
And she rolled her eyes again and huffed, “Don’t make me regret this, you stupid bull!”

“Never,” he grinned, _“I swear.”_ and carried her out of the godswood over the courtyard, past guards and servants, who cast them all kind of looks. Curious. Baffled. Disapproving. And confused. All knowing, Robb didn’t want them to be alone past nightfall. But Gendry didn’t care. Not anymore. _She was his now. And no one could ever separate him from her again._

He carried her happily into the Great Keep, and through the hallways to her chamber’s door.  
There, he nodded towards the door handle, “A little help from the wife?”  
“Sure, just call me by my name and let me down onto my feet again.” she snorted annoyed.  
“Out of question. Not before we’re inside.” he declared.  
And she mocked, “Well, I guess the cot in the forge it is then after all. At least for you.”  
“Make up your mind, woman!” he growled playfully.  
“I have.” she snorted laughing.  
“To torture me for the rest of my life?” he questioned amused.  
“What else should I do with a stupid bull like you?”  
“Just you wait, wifey!” he turned around and leaned against the wall, lifting his knee to place her on his thigh, while he opened the door with his now spare hand.  
“You’re an idiot, you know.” she rolled her eyes amused.  
And he chuckled, “As long as I’m your idiot …”  
He lifted her up again and carried her into the room, before he closed the door behind them with his foot.

Making them both realise, they finally got what they had wanted all along. For a moment, they just stared at one another, somehow stunned by that fact. They were together. _Really together now._ For the rest of their lives. _It felt surreal._ And awkward. _Yeah, definitively awkward,_ especially going by her chewing on her lip again. They were alone, behind a closed door. At night … _it was strange._

It took Gendry a moment to pull his glance away from her, to take in her room. _Their room now of a sudden._ But then his eyes landed on the small table near the window, seeing a tankard of wine, two cups and plates, bread and cheese, meat and vegetables, fruits and _even lemon cakes._ He couldn’t help but grin like a fool again, then. _Gods, he loved this woman._  
“Not a so bad wife after all, huh?” she challenged tongue-in-cheek.  
And he finally set her feet back onto the ground, placing both arms around her waist and assured, “The best.”  
“Don’t get used to it! Won’t happen again.” she growled and pulled him into a kiss.

Until his stomach’s growling made her break away laughingly.  
“Go on, I’m no longer standing in your way.” she teased and stepped aside demonstratively.  
But he dragged her with him, towards the table and onto his thigh again, “I’m not ever letting go off you again, you know.” he announced, already happily digging into the food.  
Causing her to chuckle, “I’m pretty sure, you haven’t thought that through, yet.”  
“Isn’t that what the wife’s for … so a man can stop wracking his brain?” he teased.  
She knocked on his head with her knuckles, “If only there were something to wrack in the first place.” she snorted, and filled herself a cup of wine, “I’m calling you ‘stupid’ for a reason, in case you haven’t noticed, stupid?”

And for a while their playful teasing and bickering had continued, until Gendry of a sudden noticed, _she barely touched any food,_ but instead was about to refill her cup for the fourth time. _Fuck. She got it all wrong._  
He swiftly placed his hand over hers holding the tankard, “Arya, stop!” he told her and made her face him, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m perfectly fine, just holding you in my arms.” he assured.  
“But we’re married now.” she objected stubbornly.  
“So?” he challenged calmly.  
Yet, she insisted bravely, “It doesn’t count, if we’re not doing it.” apparently not understanding, their marriage bed was the last place she needed to be brave.  
And thus he scoffed, “Says who?”  
“Law, stupid!” she huffed, trying to stare him down.  
“Stupid law.” he countered, “And who’d know we didn’t do it anyway?”  
“Um, the maids.” she snorted, rolling her eyes, “There’s supposed to be blood on the sheets, everyone knows that.”

At that, Gendry lifted her off of his thigh and got up, “You want blood?” he growled, and pulled her bedcovers aside and his dirk from its sheath on his belt. He cut his forearm and spit onto the wound, rubbing his arm briefly over her sheet, “There, marriage consummated.” he proclaimed stubbornly, “And now you and I will do whatever we want, whenever we like … tonight, tomorrow, in a fortnight or in a year, understood?” _He could wait. For her he could do anything. Even wait a whole lifetime, if that were what she wanted …_  
He doubted it, though.

Rolling her eyes again, she got him a handkerchief and tied it around his arm to cover the small cut, “You’re an idiot.”  
“So are you.” he whispered and pulled her into his arms again, placing a kiss onto her head.  
“So, can we go to bed now?” she inquired, scowling up at him – just out of habit.  
“Thought you’d never ask.” he teased and earned himself another punch.  
Before she stepped away from him, fiddling with her gown’s laces.

But he stopped her immediately, “ _Wait,_ I need one last look at this.” knowing, he would never see her in a dress again.  
“Gods, you really are the most stupid man in the world, aren’t you?” she snorted and rolled her eyes once more.  
Standing there with her typical annoyed expression and posture, completely unladylike, _yet, drop-dead gorgeous all the same._  
“Are you done staring, yet?” she growled just a flash later.  
“Never.” he chuckled.  
“Well, too bad. Time’s up.” she snapped and undid the laces of her gown.  
She removed its top and let its skirt and underskirt slide to the ground, until she stood in front of him in only her undergarments.  
Making him indeed grin, as if he were the most stupid man in the world, _“Even more beautiful.”_ slipped from his lips.  
But that only earned him another glare and made her slip promptly under the bedcovers.  
“Your turn.” she challenged annoyed.

“As m’lady commands.” he bowed to her.  
“Shut up, and get out of those stupid clothes!” she threw a pillow at him.  
And he quickly obeyed, removing his boots and jerkin, shirt and breeches, fully enjoying her curious looks wandering over his bare chest and smallclothes, before he slipped under the covers himself, pulling her back to his chest.  
“Goodnight, wife.” he whispered into her neck.  
And she growled, “Goodnight, stupid bull.”  
Yet, intertwined her fingers with his hand over her belly.  
And eventually she even whispered, “I love you.” making him grin like a fool for good.  
She had only said it once before, that awful night all those moon’s turns ago, once she had broken both their hearts.  
So, he couldn’t resist to tease now, “I know.” causing her to elbow him and make him rather promptly appease, “I love you, too.” and place a kiss on her neck, biting back to say, _even when you’re an absolute pain in the arse._

**Author's Note:**

> WEDDING / MARRIAGE / SEX AND SO ON
> 
> Yeah, I know in the TV-show they hooked up pretty quickly after their reunion. And I am not complaining. I absolutely loved it. Why wait and waste time, when there is no time left, with Death itself on one’s doorstep? Especially since their relationship, respect for each other, trust and feelings were established long ago, for over two seasons/years.
> 
> But in my story, they haven’t seen death and horrors as in canon (yet), and thus, they are both way naiver than in TV-canon, even though they are about the same age in this story. Also, they don’t have to face the end of their world (yet), so they don’t need to hurry up, they feel like they have all the time in the world in this story. They have only known each other for about a year, and their relationship technically only started after Gendry gave up his rights to the throne. Before that, they hardly spent time together, at least compared to Arya and Gendry in canon, who spent about 2 years together, day and night right next to each other; and constant danger of course makes people get closer quicker than usual.
> 
> Anyway, I came up with this story a while before season 8 started airing. I just couldn’t publish it before I finished “That’s Not Me”. And the main reason why I wrote it was, that I wanted to explore how a wedding between Arya and Gendry COULD go. I usually prefer Arya and Gendry unmarried, to not give in to stupid patriarchal social pressure/rules/standards. But I am not totally against their marriage, as long as they don’t marry in a sept (least of all the Great Sept), but in a godswood or in front of a heart tree (preferably a weirwood tree) and entirely on their own terms.
> 
> The only thing I personally find absolutely repelling about marriage is stupid wedding customs. Don’t get me started, about that nonsense bedding custom or the first night tradition in Westeros. Or arranged marriages in fiction and in real life. 
> 
> You see, I even think the wedding night custom absolute nonsense. Until this very day in 2019 it is kind of expected of the bride and groom to consummate their marriage on the wedding night – and I think that’s idiotic. Sure, for a modern couple, who practices pre-marital sex, it’s probably not a big deal, if they’re both in the mood and not too drunk to do the deed. But in a traditional society, where especially the bride is expected to enter the wedding bed ‘pure’ (as if fulfilling consensual sex could tarnish a person.), I just hate the idea of the wedding night custom. I understand in ancient times men tried to prevent raising the milkman’s child by this custom. But come on, unless that child actually was conceived on the wedding night, there was nearly no way to prevent that from happening.
> 
> I really struggle with the idea of the wedding night custom. And not just because I think it unfair, when only the bride is expected to enter the wedding bed a virgin. Even when the man has no sexual experience either and the couple loves each other dearly, I still think it absolutely stupid. Making two people believe, they HAVE TO have sex during that one night is horrible. It applies unnecessary pressure to something that should be just about love, mutual respect, fun and pleasure. Such a custom only complicates things, especially for unexperienced couples. It causes unnecessary fears and additional awkwardness and can technically not only ruin two people’s first time but maybe even their future sex life for good – just because they feel forced to do it on that night. 
> 
> So, that is why I chose to make Arya and Gendry bend all those stupid wedding customs to their will. To defy and also a bit mock the whole nonsense about a wedding/marriage. Be it the wedding ceremony itself, by not having Eddard/Robb give Arya away at the heart tree (that girl needs no giving away. Since she has no intentions to give herself away, she just wants to be with the guy she loves). Or by just have two wolves there as their witnesses (but maybe Sansa warged Lady right then. I can totally imagine her excited and happy screaming down in King’s Landing.). Or by not using the exact traditional wedding phrases and by leaving out the cloak-thing completely. And of course by not letting them have sex on their wedding night. Because I believe that is the most Arya- (&Gendry)-way to marry. To just pick the parts they want and respect and ignore the whole bullshit part about it.
> 
> But also, now you readers can decide for yourself, when they’re going to consummate this marriage in this story’s universe. Be it the morning after or some days/weeks/months/years later. 
> 
> YOUR OPINION
> 
> Feel free to comment your opinion about this story. But remember, English is not my first language and I never had any training/lessons in creative writing. So, please keep your criticism constructive and fair and write in English, so I and your fellow readers can understand.


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